The Problem Is, I Love You
by Klyntaliah
Summary: Natasha's first seduction mission was an accident. Clint's response to it, and the evolution of his responses to her seduction missions over the years. Clintasha. T for obvious reasons, as well as mild language. "If you have an issue with me seducing targets, maybe you'd better say so upfront."


**Yep, me again!**

 **Sorry I haven't posted in ages! It's not that I'm not writing - quite the contrary, my notebooks are filling up like crazy! It's just that it takes a while to type the stories up. Expect more coming your way though. In the meantime, enjoy _The Problem Is, I love You._**

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He leaned back against the warm leather seat, glaring out the windshield into the heavy downpour. Raindrops tapped pleasantly onto the roof of the car and clung to the windows, shimmering in the warm, yellow light of the streetlamps, but Clint Barton was aware of none of it.

He was busy replaying it all, over and over again in his mind's eye – her words, her smile, the way she had looked at him… Clint gritted his teeth angrily, and his hold on the steering wheel tightened.

Through the swirling mist, Clint caught sight of a figure running towards him across the dark street. A slight, redheaded figure in a light pink dress… Clint stabbed the unlock button with two fingers and turned his face away, and seconds later, Natasha Romanoff flung the door open.

"What the _hell,_ Barton!" she complained, collapsing into the passenger seat and forcefully slamming the door. Steady streams of rainwater were dripping from every inch of her body, and she was shaking visibly, but she fixed Clint with a burning scowl. Despite the bedraggled state of her dress and hair, Clint noticed that she still managed to look aggravatingly sexy.

He passed her a towel.

"Thanks, what the hell were you thinking?" she demanded, swiping the towel across her arms and neck. "Fury pounded it into our brains, over and over, that _we weren't supposed to kill the guy._ And what did you do?—" "I killed the guy." "—You killed the guy! And as soon as HYDRA realizes he's dead, they'll know we're onto them, and we'll really have to skip if we want to get the jump on them. And all because you, for some mysterious reason, decided our target was craving an arrow or two to the gut!"

Clint aggressively twisted a dial, upping the heat to warm her.

"'Preciate it. And I haven't even gotten _started_ on how _profoundly pissed_ Fury's going to be when he finds out you disobeyed a _direct order._ Remember last time that happened? You got assigned files duty for a month! And, of course, since I was with you, I'll be blamed, too, so there go all my field ops for the next month or so! Thanks a lot, Barton!"

Clint violently twitched the heat up a notch. He had never seen the Black Widow so angry, never heard her rant for so long. He supposed he should have been more concerned about being on the receiving end of so many of her famous glares, but he was so angry himself that he didn't even care.

Natasha huffed in frustration, then dug her comm out of her ear and hurled it into the backseat. "Comms are down. Unless you turned them off on purpose," she said accusingly.

"The noise was distracting me while I was trying to aim," Clint lied. He didn't want to tell her why he had really turned the comms off.

"You shouldn't have been _trying to aim_ at all," Natasha returned. "This was supposed to be an intel mission. You were only supposed to use your bow in case of emergency."

She pulled her streaming hair over her shoulder and started wringing it out with the towel. For a minute, the only noises were the soft pattering of the rain and the _whoosh_ of the heater.

Then Natasha said, "You know you still haven't told me why you did it yet"; and he rounded on her, seething.

"He," Clint said through clenched teeth, "was _touching_ you." He glowered fiercely at his partner, daring her to contradict him.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Of _course_ he was touching me! That was kind of the idea," she informed him heatedly.

"You could have told me that was the idea going in!—"

"Even _I_ didn't know that was the idea going in! I knew I had to get information out of him, and when he started hitting on me, I realized seducing him was the best way to do that. I was just doing what Fury told me to do!"

 _"Fury didn't tell you to sleep with the target!"_ Clint thundered.

"No, not specifically, but he _did_ tell me to retrieve the intel using _'whatever means necessary'._ Last I checked, seduction falls under 'whatever means necessary'." Natasha tossed her head arrogantly. "And anyway, it's not like this is the first time I've done this. I mean, I've never done it for _Shield_ before now, but KGB—"

"WELL THAT'S GOOD! BECAUSE FURY WOULD _NEVER_ ALLOW A SHIELD AGENT TO DO THAT!" Clint yelled.

Natasha scowled. "Really, Barton? Are you sure about that? Because, in five minutes, I gathered information that would otherwise have taken five _days_ of negotiation or five _weeks_ of interrogation _._ So look me in the eye and tell me again that Fury wouldn't like that."

Clint ground his teeth, glaring furiously at her. He had a nagging suspicion that he wouldn't be able to say that with complete honesty, so he swiftly changed tactics.

"And plus, you probably _wanted_ to…" he said irritably.

Natasha froze. "What," she said slowly, "the _hell_ are you suggesting? If you think I enjoyed any part of that—"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't have done it!" Clint recklessly ignored her dangerous tone.

"No!" Natasha shouted back. "I didn't enjoy it, but it was the most effective way to collect the intel, and I don't regret it! Why are you so upset about it, anyway?" she added testily.

Clint turned back to the windshield, angrily working his jaw. Why _was_ he so upset about it? He didn't know, and at the moment, he didn't really care.

"Whatever," he grumbled finally. "As long as you never do it again." He put the car into drive and started slowly pulling away from the curb.

"I can't promise that," Natasha said; and Clint slammed on the brakes, causing both their heads to snap forward.

 _"What do you mean, you can't promise that!"_ he shouted, staring at her with blind fury. "You just said you hated every second of that, and now you're saying you'd do it again? You're being an idiot!"

"Barton, you're the one being an idiot," Natasha said, more calmly. "I just told you – I didn't enjoy seducing him, but it was necessary and I'd do it again."

"But you said—" Clint began, but Natasha held up a hand, so he stopped. He wasn't really sure where he'd been going with that anyway.

"Just hear me out. I've only been at Shield for a few months. The more success I have on missions, the more respect I earn there. So if seduction is the best way to complete a mission, I'll do it. So I guess…" Natasha hesitated and bit her lip. "So I guess what I'm saying is, if you have an issue with me seducing targets, maybe you'd better say so upfront. Because I doubt this will be the last time I have to do this. So maybe…" She turned her head away and looked studiously out the window. "Maybe I should have Fury assign me to a new partner. Someone who _is_ okay with it."

Clint stared at her, hardly believing his ears. She would do that? But she trusted him more than anyone else at Shield, and he in turn trusted her more than anyone else did. He worked well with her, better than any partner he'd ever had, and they hadn't even known each other for long. He couldn't stand the thought of her working with someone else.

But then there was the way the target had looked at her, the way he'd touched her. Clint tightened his jaw. He didn't think he could bear to see that again.

"No," he blurted out, looking away. "No, I don't have an issue with it." He could feel Natasha studying him closely, and he scowled purposefully out the windshield.

"Okay," Natasha said finally, leaning back in her seat.

Clint put the car into drive.

[Three months later.]

They pulled up in front of the brick building in late afternoon. The sky was gray and overcast, and a light, sparse rain misted from the clouds and dusted the windshield, reminding Clint of the first time Natasha had done this.

He braked and unlocked the car, waiting for his partner to get out. He could feel her watching him, but he scowled intently out the windshield and didn't meet her eyes.

"I'll be about half an hour," she said, even though they both knew that Clint had the time schedule memorized.

He grunted, but remained otherwise impassive.

Natasha took a deep breath. "Barton… do you know how many seduction missions I've had so far?"

 _Seven._

"Seven," Natasha said. "Two of those times, you were supposed to take down the target when I had the information I needed. Do you know how many times you took down the target?"

 _Seven._

"Seven," Natasha repeated. She paused. "Look, I… I know you don't like it. But you know the guy really has to live this time."

Clint clenched his teeth.

"This organization really needs to think we're on their side. And we're going to have a hard time convincing them of that if you kill one of their best men." Natasha tilted her head, trying to make eye contact. "So just – don't kill him. Okay? It's important."

It was always important.

"Just tell me you won't kill him, and then I'll go. Okay?"

Clint turned his head away, glaring out the window.

"Barton?" Natasha said; and then, "Clint." Her fingertips brushed his arm.

Clint sighed. He slowly tore his gaze away from the window and focused it on his partner.

"Fine," he muttered.

So when he watched it all play out from his vantage point across the street, and when he watched Natasha finally leave the room, and when he slowly readied an arrow and drew back the bowstring, aiming it directly at the subject's heart – he hesitated.

He remembered Natasha's voice when she'd said his name in the car, he remembered her face when she'd looked so earnestly up at him. And he remembered her light touch on his arm.

Clint returned the arrow to his quiver and headed back to the car.

[Eighteen months later.]

"What say we stop for a bite when the job's done?"

Clint nodded towards a small Italian diner on the corner as they cruised the streets of Denver, Colorado at a leisurely speed.

Natasha looked up from the phone she'd been intently tapping away at and glanced out the windshield. She gave a small snort when she located the restaurant.

"Seriously, Barton? We're on a covert mission, in disguise, about to engage a notorious killer, and you want to think about food right now?"

"I always think about food," Clint said wistfully. "Mission or no mission, we need to eat. How does spaghetti sound?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, but Clint could see her dimples flickering. "Okay, whatever. Spaghetti does sound kinda good."

"Ha. See?" Clint grinned. Natasha socked him in the arm.

They turned and started heading west. The sun was on its downward journey, and harsh rays of light penetrated the vehicle, reflecting off the mirrors and causing the assassins to squint. The sequins on Natasha's gold dress sparkled, and her hair lit up so that it seemed to be glowing.

"Nice dress, but I'm going to be blind by the time we get there," Clint remarked. "It's like turning on your phone in a dark room when the screen brightness is up too high."

"Shut up," Natasha said playfully. "Just be glad you're not the one wearing it."

Clint burst out laughing at the mental image. "I mean, I dunno, that might be a good look for me," he joked.

Natasha snorted again.

Clint turned his focus back to the road. "Okay, so walk me through this thing again," he coaxed.

Natasha took a deep breath. "Okay. You drop me at the entrance, find someplace to park, then come back to the pub. Find a table far away from me, and keep eyes on the target. Obviously, you can't use your bow in this scenario, but a weapon is mandatory, as Delacey is famous for his violent temper. So your gun is only to be used if it's a life-or-death situation. Maintaining your cover is high on the priority list." She recited the words perfectly, having already been through them a few times.

"Meanwhile, I will have found Delacey, and he and I will be at a table, and I'll figure out some way to bring up his intel without sounding suspicious. Then I start making offers. I can bid for it only within a reasonable price range, as Shield's covering it."

Natasha tucked her hair behind her ear. "Once I'm done and I have the intel, I'll give you a signal. Then you go get the car, and bring it back, and I wait in the pub until you get back. Then we high-tail it out of there, and Delacey doesn't realize he sold his information to Shield till we're long gone. Got it?"

"All clear," Clint said. He looked thoughtfully out the window. "Hey, out of curiosity, did Fury give you any sort of estimate on what a 'reasonable price range' is?"

Natasha continued tapping furiously at her phone. "Um… yeah…" she said, sounding distracted.

"What'd he tell you?" Clint wanted to know.

Natasha didn't answer immediately. "Um… I think he said… no more than a grand," she answered in a cautious tone.

Clint looked at her in surprise. "Wait. _One_ thousand? Fury thinks he'll part with the intel for that little?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Natasha said evasively. Clint noticed that she sounded uncomfortable, and she didn't meet his eyes.

"That's crazy!" Clint stated. "This guy doesn't mess around. I heard last time he wouldn't go less than a couple million! Fury _does_ know this is Gary Delacey, right?"

"That's why it's an undercover mission," Natasha said, glancing at him. "Fury figures he'll up the price if he knows we're Shield."

"But that shouldn't make much of a difference," Clint said, bewildered. "I mean, a couple hundred, maybe, but not a big break. What's the catch?" He studied his partner, as confused about her strange behavior as he was about the situation.

Natasha lowered her phone into her lap and looked out at the setting sun. "The catch is… Fury figures if money doesn't work, I can try something else."

"Ohh, okay. I knew there had to be something. So what else are we gonna try?"

Natasha didn't reply. Clint looked at her, but she was staring expressionlessly forward.

"Nat?"

Natasha threw him a brief glance, but didn't say anything. Clint frowned in puzzlement, wondering why she seemed so uncomfortable… and then it dawned on him.

Clint turned his eyes back to the road, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "You're going to seduce him."

A moment passed, then, irritated, Clint asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't sure it would come to that," Natasha said. "And really, I'm still not. Fury just said if money doesn't work—"

"Fury shouldn't be able to tell you who to sleep with!" Clint said, his voice rising in anger.

"Clint!" Natasha leaned her head back and sighed. "It's not like that! Fury just said, Delacey has a reputation as a womanizer, so he won't sell, then that might be a good—"

 _"That's telling you to sleep with him!"_ Clint hollered.

"No! The money—"

"Don't even try to tell me it's not!" Clint interrupted. "We both know the money won't be enough. You knew going in that you were gonna have to do this. So I'll ask you again – why didn't you tell me?"

Natasha scowled. "You wanna know why I didn't tell you? Fine! It was because I knew you would get offensive and start yelling like you always do. And look! That's exactly what you're doing! Stoplight!"

Clint slammed on the brakes. He turned to Natasha, fuming. "Really? That's why you didn't tell me? You knew I would have a perfectly natural response to the fact that your boss is dictating your sex life, and so you purposely didn't tell me a key part of the mission!"

Natasha glared at him. "Okay don't even pretend _that's_ why you're upset! If I forgot to tell you that we were also supposed to take down HYDRA on this mission you wouldn't care! You're just mad because I have to seduce him!"

"That you have to – OF COURSE I'M MAD THAT YOU HAVE TO SEDUCE HIM!" Clint bellowed. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT? THAT'S PERFECTLY NATURAL!"

"Really? Cause I don't see anyone else getting this upset about it!" Natasha retorted. "Not even me, and I'm the one doing the actual seducing! Light's green!"

Clint stomped on the gas and they zoomed ahead, their heads whipping back and hitting their seats.

He didn't respond to her, partly because he had gotten to the point where he was too angry to speak, but mainly because he wasn't sure _how_ to respond. Why _did_ he always get so upset on seduction missions? No one else did. He wasn't sure, but he had an idea. One he was somewhat wary of exploring.

The rest of the drive to the bar passed in tight, brittle silence. When they finally pulled up in front of it, Clint braked and turned his head away, waiting for Natasha to get out.

"Clint…"

Clint set his jaw, determined not to look at her. Even though she was using that tone that he loved.

"You're right."

Here was something different.

"I should have told you going in that this was how it had to be, so that we would both be on the same page. It was unprofessional of me not to."

Clint blinked. The Black Widow was admitting she was wrong? This only happened once a blue moon.

"It's just – you always get so upset when I have to do this. You know you do. You never talk the whole ride out, except when you have to, and then – you snap at me. And maybe I should've just put up with it. But…" Her voice grew even softer, and Clint had to strain his ears to catch her words.

"I just – I really like… talking with you on the way out. We can, you know, have fun, lighten up a little before the mission. And I just knew if I told you… that wouldn't happen. So I know it was selfish… but that's the truth." She fell silent, waiting for a reply.

Clint finally looked at her, and she appeared relieved that he was at least making eye contact.

"It's okay. I probably wouldn't have told me either," he admitted. "Sorry, I should've realized that me getting upset about this bothers you so much. I like talking on the ride out, too, so I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Natasha's face brightened. "Really?"

Clint froze. He'd hardly been thinking about the implications of his words as he said them. He wasn't even sure it was _possible_ for him to be calm going into these things.

"Yes," he said with conviction. "Really."

Natasha smiled, and in that moment, Clint reached a decision. From now on, he would try to get over his anger on seduction missions. It would be difficult, but for Natasha, he could do it.

[Eight years later.]

Even if Clint hadn't known what was going on in the hotel room, it would have become very obvious when he saw Natasha walking towards him across the lobby. Her hair was mussed, a couple reddish marks spotted her neck and jaw, and her little black dress looked like it had been put on in a hurry – all evidence to the fact that this was a seduction mission.

"Let's go," Natasha muttered as she walked briskly past her partner.

Clint fell into step beside her. "I had to park the car a couple blocks from here. Ready for a walk?"

"I guess we'll see."

A cold blast of air hit them as the automatic doors parted. As they headed out into the still night, Clint glanced at Natasha, noting her strapless, backless dress. "Where's your coat?" he asked, his question forming a cloud in the nippy air.

Natasha hugged herself and shivered. "Musta left it in his room, dammit," she stated. "It's too late to go back now."

Wordlessly, Clint unzipped his jacket and started to slip it off.

"Hey, no, I'm good. You keep it."

"Yeah, no." Clint chuckled. "There's no way I'm letting you walk around in forty degree weather in that thing. I'm in two layers, so shut up." He carefully settled his jacket around his partner's shoulders.

"Thanks." Natasha slid her arms into the lengthy sleeves and flipped her short hair out of the collar.

"So, that went pretty well," Clint commented after a moment's pause.

"Idiot never saw it coming," Natasha agreed in satisfaction. "Bug's planted, and Shield's probably listening in on him as we speak."

"Perfect, as always," Clint complimented.

Natasha grimaced. "Truthfully, I was a little worried about this one. I thought I might've slipped up a couple times, maybe came on too strong. Oh well – at least I got him bugged."

"Hey, from where I was standing, it looked like you did great," Clint reassured her. "Poor guy went for it hook, line, and sinker."

Natasha smiled.

They walked on in silence for a moment until she spoke again.

"You know, I don't think I've said this before, but I'm glad you got over your issues with these types of missions. It makes it so much easier to discuss afterwards."

"Yeah, well." Clint gave a wry smile. "It wasn't easy."

"I can imagine, going by how pissed you used to get. You used to bite my head off every time, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

The gleaming black silhouette of their car came into view, and they headed towards it across the empty lot as Nat continued.

"And remember how you always shot the guy afterwards? Thank goodness you stopped doing that, it used to drive Fury nuts. And it used to drive _me_ nuts how childish you were about the whole thing. How long did it take before you started to tolerate it? A year, two years?" Natasha breathed a short laugh through her nose and shook her head. Then she cocked an eyebrow. "But these days, you probably more than tolerate it – you enjoy it."

"Right." Clint set his jaw.

"Yeah, nowadays it's probably like a show for you. Like a personal porn channel," she went on, her voice growing harder. "In fact, I bet missions like this are probably like the main reason you're still working with me. You enjoy—"

"Stop," Clint broke in tersely.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "What? I'm just saying it like it is, Barton. You used to kill me when these things were over, beg me to never seduce a target again. Now you congratulate me and talk about what a good job I did. Seems to me like you have fun watching these guys—"

In one swift movement, Clint grabbed her by the arms and threw her against the driver's side door. His head was pounding as rage coursed through him, and he was breathing hard.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Clint," Natasha was saying. She sounded a little nervous. "Just take it easy, I was just joking. You should never listen to me, I never mean what I say, I know you don't really feel that way. Please let go of me, Clint, I swear I was only joking."

Clint took a deep breath, feeling slightly calmer. He started to feel a little guilty about his knee-jerk reaction. He didn't think Natasha had meant to upset him, but she had hit a nerve.

"Nat," he said quietly. "Please don't joke about that."

Natasha leaned her head against the car and swallowed. "I know. I know. I took it way too far. That was really stupid, and I'm sorry. I was just mad because I thought you didn't…"

"It still makes me mad, you know," Clint blurted out. He felt Natasha's muscles tense, and she looked up at him. He kept his eyes trained carefully downward, scowling.

"Seduction missions, I mean. They still make me mad," he explained. "I still want to kill the guy every time. Slowly, make 'em feel pain. I hate all of them so much that sometimes it scares me a little." His grip on Natasha's arms tightened as memories of past targets flitted through his mind, and his frown grew deeper.

"Only reason I don't kill 'em is because you don't want me to. That's why I don't seem mad about it, too. Cause you told me not to be. And I know this is gonna disappoint you, because you really wanted me to be okay with this. But I just can't be."

Clint kicked at the pavement, still looking purposefully downward. "I've learned to hide my anger. But the less anger I show, the more I feel. The truth is, on each one of these missions, I get every bit as angry as I did on the first one. No, actually, I get angrier on each one." He lifted his chin, finally meeting her eyes. "I know you think I don't care, Nat. But I do, more than you know. And the reason I care so much about this… is because I care so much about… about you."

Clint dropped his eyes again, scowling. He hadn't been intending to say so much, it had just come out. What if Natasha didn't feel the same way? What if she was appalled? What if—?

He was cut off mid-thought as Natasha leaned up and passed her lips across his. He barely had time to register what was happening and definitely didn't have time to react before she drew back again.

"Sorry, I just – I thought you didn't care anymore," she confessed, dropping her gaze. "And I didn't realize how much I wanted you to until you didn't anymore."

Clint just stared at her, trying to get his mind around what was happening. "Tasha…" he said softly.

She looked up, and her eyes caught the moonlight.

Clint leaned in and kissed her.

She kissed him back; and Clint moved in closer until he felt her head hit the car, his lips moving in concordance with hers. His hands slid under her oversized jacket, clasping her waist; and she wound her arms around his neck as their kisses grew more passionate. He tilted his head for fuller purchase of her lips, and she exhaled, her hot breath contrasting sharply with the frigid air.

Finally, Natasha tipped her head forward, breaking the contact. Her hands came to rest at the back of his neck; and they rested their foreheads together, both panting, the clouds of their breath mingling between them.

"You okay?" Clint asked.

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around his neck again and leaned her head on his shoulder. Clint curled his arms around her back and squeezed her tightly.

Finally, Natasha pulled away, her hands slipping down his muscled arms. "Clint…"

Clint let his hands rest at her lower back, waiting.

"We need to get to the extraction point. Otherwise we're gonna miss our window," Natasha stated, officially breaking the mood.

At the moment, Clint couldn't have cared less about the window, but he knew his partner was right. So he nodded and reluctantly let go of her.

"We'll finish this later," Natasha said, heading around to the passenger side.

Clint opened his door and raised his eyebrows. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

Natasha just smirked and got into the car.

[End.]


End file.
